Chapter 4
The smell of coffee wakes me up.
Where am I?
Oh yeah, right. The Redmond Apts.
I swing off the bed and walk across the creaky floor to the kitchen. As I pass the bathroom, I notice it’s been used.
Trevor is in the kitchen, showered and shaved and ready for the day, cleaning the Keurig.
“This doesn’t belong here,” he says. “Ruins the feel of the place, don’t you think? Should be an old-fashioned percolator instead.”
“Good morning,” I say.
He doesn’t look at me. “Good morning. So, look, Smudge, I’ve got some shit to do. Your dad spent the night at the Radisson¸ and I’m going to meet him later.”
“Can’t you stay and have breakfast? I bought Hungry Jack pancakes.”
“No, but you’re safe. Stay here for as long as you want. You won’t be charged.”
“Yeah, I was meaning to ask you about that.”
“Don’t. Just don’t.”
“But how can you just–”
“I said, don’t. Look, I’ve got to run. I just need to take care of something I’ve been meaning to take care of for years. Now that I’m here, I need to do it. Especially now that I’ve played a card with Rodrigo. I just announced to someone that I’m here. I need to go see . . . this particular someone. It will get my mind off this.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”
He takes a sip of his coffee and meets my eyes for a tenth of a second, then looks away again with a little smile. “Couple times.”
“You know, it’s strange. We know nothing about your life before Dad hired you to rescue Addison.”
He gulps down his coffee and rinses the mug in the sink. “And I want to keep it that way.”
He’s about to walk past me toward the door, but he stops and pauses. Then he turns and looks into my eyes.
He steps forward and hugs me.
“Love you, Smudge.”
“Love you too, Trevor.”
Then he’s out the door. I grab a tissue from the box on the table and wipe my eyes.
Chapter 5
I’m barely functioning at the restaurant. I’ve already delivered the wrong food to table ten, now I forgot table twelve’s Perrier. Everyone is shooting me dirty looks and leaving tiny tips. So not me.
“Are you okay?” says Javier next to me at the coffee station. “I haven’t known you that long, but you’re off today. Way off.”
“I don’t know. I think I’m losing my mind.”
“Well, your old bat is here. She’s requesting you.”
“Oh shit no. Can you take it?”
“No, I’m outta here.”
Dammit. I don’t have time for Lorena. The place is too busy. Plus, I hate her. No, that’s wrong. I don’t. I’m just so torn up over Lukas Thorn, and she’s so a part of Lukas Thorn that I just . . . well, okay, I know it doesn’t make any sense.
“Hi, Lorena,” I say as I put a menu down in front of her. “Would you like to hear about today’s specials.”
“You haven’t answered my calls, Jayd.”
“Tonight we have a lobster flambé with orzo in a port wine reduction with mint and olives. We also have a–”
“Is it because of Addison?”
I freeze. “Addison?”
“Or is it Ashley? Did one of your sisters call you? You told me their names, remember? Addison and Ashley.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, even though I don’t remember telling her about either of them. Guess I must have at her party that night. “Why do you ask?”
Her eyes squint. “No reason. I had a hunch; that’s all.”
“Look, Lorena, I can’t talk about this. In fact, I can’t do the things we talked about before. Let’s just go back to I’m your waitress, and you’re here for dinner. Now–”
“I’m not here for dinner, Jayd. I’m here to retrieve you.”
“Retrieve me? What does that mean?”
“Jayd, I have a problem that only you can solve.”
I roll my eyes. “Lorena, it’s busy. I can’t talk.”
“Lukas Thorn has quit.”
That makes me pause. “Quit?”
“Yes, he ran out on my school and left Miami. I need him back, Jayd. It doesn’t work without him.”
“I’m sorry, Lorena, but that is not my problem. Now, I need to go get table nine’s order. I’ll bring your usual drink.”
“Do you know why you were rejected, dear?”
“I told you, I’ve got to go!”
“Because you got to him. Do you know what it takes to get to Lukas Thorn, dear? A million women have tried. You succeeded.”
I feel like my head is about to explode. I run to table nine, take their order, then to the kitchen where table eleven’s plates are up.
“Eleven is ready!” says Fernando. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Hustle, chica, hustle!”
“I know, I know. Sorry.”
I try to get my groove back by ignoring Lorena. In effect, that reduces my tables to three so I can focus better.
A million women have tried. You succeeded.
“Grrrrrrrr,” I say out loud as I carry a large tray on my shoulder to table ten, trying to shake off the thought.
But it’s no good. Out of the mouths of each of the four family members at table ten I hear the same words:
A million women have tried. You succeeded.
I go back into the kitchen. Fernando yells at me again.
“A million women have tried!” he shouts. “You succeeded!”
No, that can’t be what he’s saying. I’m lost in some sort of a mental fog.
Okay, fine. Let’s have this out.
I return to Lorena.
“Okay, what do you mean by that? No, wait, don’t tell me, this is bullshit. You and he are up to something.”
“Jayd, listen to me. You’re here for a reason. Fate brought us together. You are the only person I can trust.”
“What did you say?”
“Lukas Thorn has quit. I need him, but more than that I need to prevent him from making a serious mistake in his own life. You are a good person, and you are also the only person I’ve ever seen Lukas Thorn look at like that. Well no, the second.”
Second? Who was the first?
Dancing around tables.
“Okay, so what, Lorena? What are you asking me?”
“I have a plan to get him back. But you’re the only person who can do it.”
“Why me?”
“Because of this power you have over him.”
“Power? What power?”
“Waitress!” says the asshole at table nine. “Could you check on our steaks, please?”
“Be right there!” I say with a fake smile.
“Don’t go in the kitchen, dear,” says Lorena.
“I have to go in the kitchen! This is my job! I’m working!”
“Not for long, dear. Bogart is about to go out of business.”
“Lorena, I don’t have time for this.”
She grabs my wrist and squeezes, looking me in the eyes with a hypnotic stare from a netherworld while clamping an iron grip to my arm. I can’t seem to move.
“Waitress!” shouts someone from table nine.
“Ignore table nine,” says Lorena. “They’re going to be eating somewhere else in just a few minutes. I’m sorry, Jayd, but I had to ensure you leave this job. This restaurant is about to be shut down.”
I’m breathing hard. “When?”
“Right now.”
At that moment, a beautiful Latina woman in a black suit walks out of the kitchen holding up a police badge, her right hand resting on her gun in its holster.
Simultaneously, two Miami-Dade cruisers with sirens and lights blaring pull up front. Several uniformed officers get out, hands resting on their guns. They come in the front door.
The Latina woman cop steps forward into the dining room. She looks remarkably like the girl who was on the TV show Lost when I was growing up. The tough, gorgeous one. What was her name?
“May I have everyone’s attention please?” she says. “My name is Detective Sergeant Martinez-Vallejos of the Miami-Dade Organized Crime Section. Everything is fine, and you are all safe. But unfortunately, this restaurant is being shut down right now. Sorry to disrupt your evening, but I need everyone to vacate the premises immediately.”